One is the loneliest number

Normally, I try to make the focus of Owen's blog to be about his accomplishments and the amazing little person he is becoming-- but I have to say, as thrilled I am for school to start, because he needs it--I am so bummed that he's in 1st grade and he's at the level he's currently at.

Now, people can read this and say "He's come so far!" and that's true.

But-

He can't tell me what he'd like to wear on his 1st day of 1st grade.
He had no interest in picking out his new school backpack.
He can't write his name.
He can't read.
He can't use his voice to say his name.

Owen.

Say it. It's not hard for you or I. For Owen, he very occasionally will say what sounds like "Oh-pon" and you can see how hard it is for him on his face. It's hard for him.

Can you say your name? How easy does that come for you?

I think you get the point.

There a few times a year that Autism really gets to me, and the 1st day of school is one of them. He won't be able to tell me what he did at school, or what story his teacher may have read. I have to read a note home from his teacher that will just tell me if he ate some, most or all of his food and a quick blurb as to a highlight from the day. I live for the blurb. LIVE for it. I rip open his backpack outside to see what he did and then get in his face to ask him if he liked "5 little monkeys" on the iPad at school or what ever the blurb says.

Then I hold my breath and wait for the moment of possible recognition in his eyes. That fleeting moment of connection with me and Owen. When it happens, it's magic.

It may sound like nothing, but it's not-it's everything.

And it sucks when he just runs away stimming.

So, tonight and probably tomorrow, Autism and Apraxia-I will hate you. Sensory Integration Disorder, I will despise you when by dinner time tomorrow I am battling to stop him stimming constantly because he is so overloaded his hands are flapping a mile a minute.

I will get over it. Owen and I have way more important things to do.

And we will do them.